Scarlet Clock

By Kilayla Pilon

A deep retelling, memories of old. Painful days and days grown cold. Within these words of Scarlet Clock, you'll find the sadness, the movement, the struggle of surviving deep and painful mental illness. Know your struggles may not be the same, but know that every day is a blessing in same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: Mar 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781666797879

Kilayla Pilon

Kilayla Pilon is an author from Cambridge, Ontario who works on poetry, fiction, and more. She is the author of When I Am Someone Else, Scarlet Clock, and the upcoming The Buried King.

Book preview

Scarlet Clock

Kilayla Pilon

Scarlet Clock

Copyright ©

2022

Kilayla Pilon. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers,

199

W.

8

th Ave., Suite

3

, Eugene, OR

97401

.

Resource Publications

An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers

199

W.

8

th Ave., Suite

3

Eugene, OR

97401

www.wipfandstock.com

paperback isbn: 978-1-6667-3785-1

hardcover isbn: 978-1-6667-9786-2

ebook isbn: 978-1-6667-9787-9

March 4, 2022 1:05 PM

Table of Contents

Title Page

aga

The clock ticks

as the dial turns

The thrumming hum of clicking gears the only sound

For silence is all that echoes inside that home

Save for the chime of another hour passed

Each moment a tempo beating through

As if ripping wounds in place

To those who hear the pendulum swing, to hear the gears grinding

They are reminded of the sorrow each new day can bring

As it marks one more second, minute, hour

Where the love that once sat laughing at the creaking dining room table

Decorated in Christmas holiday cloth and candles

Plates piled high and echoing grins as clinking cutlery filled the air

Sit now in silence with dusty fallen fair

Love lingers in the scrambled, torn paper sheets

Just as known that she is no longer here

The clock ticks as the dial turns

What must it

be to feel that strange, foreign emotion

I tremble at its name, the fear flows through my veins

It has spread across my skin, starting from my beating heart

As the crimson spills in overflow and the delicate layers

They have split apart, in pieces of shredded misery

This emotion is one that many seek

Some climb mountains as tall as Everest

In search of something more, something worth dying for

I suppose I can relate to that

The risk of death for something more, something less that pales

A comparison chart would do no good

A fleeting glimpse into the eyes of those who know

That love is the emotion I seek

With risk and determination I must climb to the highest peak

Risking death in the cold, pressurized air

Just to feel as if I belong somewhere

It was a darkness

of her mind

A feeling she couldn’t escape

So she dug a grave, every day

Built of marrow and decay

But she worked with endless effort

To find a place of beauty

In the corpses of her emotions

As she lay them in their wedded bliss

With deaths final ending kiss

A rain that poured from nowhere

The droplets bled on her skin

For the sorrow she felt grew

With every lightning flash that cracked

Ripping open the sky

She knew that her dark and battered soul

Would wage war with no end in sight

Just as she knew the droplets of rain

Had stained her once again

With thin red lines of a pain sublime

Curiosity posed

a

question of the sound

A sound only heard once or twice for some, when true pain came with a